Family
by mille libri
Summary: When Mr. Darcy returns from Hertfordshire, his sister Georgiana can tell something has changed in him and she sets out to discover what it is. (Based on the 2005 movie; not a pairing!)
1. Quashed Dreams

_I'm a little late on the P&P bandwagon, but I was captivated by the multidimensional Mr. Darcy portrayed by Matthew Macfadyen, and by the warm relationship between Darcy and Georgianna. I thought it would be interesting to see his first reaction to Elizabeth through Georgianna's eyes, and enjoyed the writing enough that this didn't stay a one-shot for long. __BTW, having just reread the book and realized exactly how far the 1995 movie differs, I attempted to refile this under movies, but it appears there is no such designation on the site as Movies Pride and Prejudice._  


* * *

_After the ball at Mr. Bingley's and his subsequent departure from Hertfordshire:_

The music was soothing, almost like the tinkle of a brook as it flowed from her fingertips. There was little Georgiana Darcy loved more than spending hours at the pianoforte, coaxing sweet melodies from its keys. Sometimes she thought the sensation she felt as she played must be what it would be like to be able to fly, so weightless and happy. She vastly preferred playing the music to those rare occasions when her governess played and asked Georgianna to dance—dancing left Georgiana feeling exposed and confused, and she longed to sink back into the background. No one noticed the player seated on the bench of the pianoforte. Or so she fondly imagined; she was not officially "out" yet, and her experience with society had of necessity been limited.

Resolutely, she drew her thoughts away from the small amount of society she had tasted. Thrilled as she had been by Mr. Wickham's attentions the previous summer, she'd found the fluttery feelings he awoke in her unsettling. She had wept from the loss and betrayal, but over time, and with the help of her brother, she had come to feel that she was far better off as Georgiana Darcy than she could have been as the Georgiana Wickham she had dreamed of becoming.

The music had slowed and darkened with the course of her thoughts, and Georgiana's fingers stilled on the keys. As she was trying to decide what to play next, the door opened before her.

"Miss Georgiana, your brother's carriage is arriving!"

Fitzwilliam! She jumped immediately up from the bench, hurrying at what was no doubt a most unladylike speed to meet her beloved brother. The carriage pulled up at the front of the house while Georgiana fairly flew down the steps. The carriage door popped open and Fitzwilliam climbed out. There was a gloom in his expression and a reserve in answer to her smile that puzzled her, until he turned to offer his hand to a lady inside the carriage. Georgiana recognized Miss Caroline Bingley with a sinking heart. There went any chance of free and easy conversation with her brother—Miss Bingley was an eavesdropper of great skill—and it meant that no doubt Georgianna would be plagued by the twin irritants of Miss Bingley attempting to convince her of the stellar qualities owned by her brother Charles and of Miss Bingley dangling her lures for Fitzwilliam.

Mr. Charles Bingley exited the carriage behind the other two, his usually bright and genuine smile seeming forced. Only Miss Bingley seemed pleased, Georgiana noticed. What had gone wrong that had Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bingley so down and Miss Bingley so … satisfied?

Her curiosity would have to wait, however. After she had made her curtsey to the others, Miss Bingley caught her by the arm. "Miss Darcy, it has been such a long time. Do take a turn with me in the gardens and tell me everything that has happened here. Oh, how I envy you this simple, bucolic lifestyle!"

Georgiana pressed her lips together. Did Miss Bingley truly imagine that Georgianna couldn't see through her thinly veiled insult? She submitted to being drawn toward the side gardens, but not without casting a glance over her shoulder at Fitzwilliam, who seemed—altered, somehow. Distracted, certainly. How dearly Georgiana would have loved to have asked Miss Bingley, but any questions submitted to that lady were likely to garner only arch witticisms and obscure hints meant to confuse more than to edify. Georgiana set herself to endure Miss Bingley's company, and to simultaneously devise a scheme that would give her time alone with her brother. She hadn't liked that pinched look on his face or the faraway expression in his eyes.

The dinner conversation was stilted. Mr. Bingley exerted himself to be amusing, but his attempts at humor fell flat until eventually he subsided into his soup. Fitzwilliam spoke in monosyllables, and Miss Bingley, after comments about Hertfordshirethat were clearly intended to needle one—or possibly both—of the men, allowed the talk to die out. Georgiana felt keenly the necessity of being a good hostess, but with three people so determined to be lost in their own thoughts, what was there in her quiet life to bring them out?

By the time the dessert dishes were cleared away and she could rise from the table, she was suffering from a mild headache and heartily tired of the set of them. Pleading the headache and ignoring the mulish look on Miss Bingley's face, Georgianna went to bed early. Her fingers itched for the smooth keys of her pianoforte, but she could not play as she would want to with this houseful of people. Perhaps they wouldn't stay long, she thought as she drifted at last into a troubled sleep.

The next morning gave no indication of a short stay, however, as Miss Bingley lay abed late and Mr. Bingley went out shooting on his own. But Georgiana was just as happy, because that meant she had Fitzwilliam to herself, and she prevailed upon him to walk with her, far into the grounds where their whereabouts could not be discovered from the house. They spoke of light things, mostly—of how much she liked her pianoforte, of plans to improve the house, of the sights he had seen in his travels.

At last he fell silent, staring ahead of them, lost in his own thoughts. Georgiana was used to her brother's silences, but there was something different about this one. He seemed troubled.

"Fitzwilliam, what is it?"

"What?"

"I am convinced something happened in Hertfordshire to upset you—and poor Mr. Bingley, as well."

"Ah." His mouth twisted a little, as if he was recalling something unpleasant. "It is nothing you need concern yourself with."

"Well, yes, so I assumed—had it been something of import to myself, I know you would have told me at once." She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm.

"Your faith in my good sense is gratifying."

"Fitzwilliam! Have you gone and done something impulsive and rash?" There was no response to Georgiana's teasing question, and she shook his arm. "Silence is to be understood as consent, you know."

"'He who is silent is understood to consent,'" he corrected her. "_Qui tacet consentire videtur."_

"Yes, yes, we all know you were a formidable student." But she smiled at him for all that; she was immensely proud of his intelligence. "Changing the subject will not keep me from asking questions. Must I inquire of Miss Bingley what occurred?"

Fitzwilliam looked alarmed. "No, I beg you, do not do such a thing. I believe her comments would cause … Mr. Bingley great pain."

"In that case, you must tell me, so that I do not inadvertently bring up a related topic."

"Very well. I should have known you would see the general agitation of the party. I had hoped not to have to discuss this with you, for reasons which will become clear." He led her to a small stone bench under a large tree. "There was a public ball the night after we arrived in Meryton."

"And were there many young ladies there?" She watched him with unconcealed interest. Georgiana could never decide whether she hoped her brother would find happiness or feared that the woman he eventually married would come between them.

"Yes. Most of them from the same family." He said it in a tone of disapproval. "Five daughters, all—most—of them quite disgraceful. As was the mother, indeed."

"And the father?"

"He was tolerable, but clearly had no influence over the behavior of the women of his family."

"Did you dance with any of these young ladies?"

"No," he replied curtly.

"Did Mr. Bingley?" Georgiana was beginning to see which way the wind was blowing. "He danced with several, I am sure."

"Only with the one. The eldest, Miss Bennet, who largely escapes the impropriety of the rest of her family. He danced with her, and then his sister unluckily asked her to dine."

"Did she do something shocking at the dinner table?"

"She did not." Fitzwilliam spared her a brief smile. "Your taste for inappropriateness is a bit unseemly, you know."

Georgiana shrugged. "I see so little of it here, you must forgive me for wanting to hear some tales of rather more interest than merely spilling the soup." Her brother's smile widened, and she was glad to see the genuine humor that was such a part of him returning. "Now, tell me what this unfortunate Miss Bennet did at dinner that was so offensive."

"In truth," he said, the smile fading, "it was not her doing. It was her mother's. You see, the two establishments were set far apart, and rather than send in the family carriage Miss Bennet to dine, the mother sent her on horseback. In the rain. Naturally, and no doubt according to plan, Miss Bennet took ill."

"Oh, the poor thing! I hope she recovered."

"She did. Although she was quite ill for some time."

"So she stayed at Mr. Bingley's home? She was too sick to remove?"

"Yes. Her sister, Miss … Elizabeth Bennet, came to stay as well, to care for Miss Bennet."

"And what was Miss Elizabeth like? As disgraceful as the rest of her family?"

Fitzwilliam stood up, walking away from Georgiana. With his back still presented to her, he said, shortly, "No."

Ah. Did the wind sit in that corner, then? Perhaps that would explain Fitzwilliam's dour mood. Georgiana watched him a moment, deciding which conversational path to take to get the most information from her stubborn brother.

"So am I to deduce that Mr. Bingley found Miss Bennet to his taste, then?"

"He did. Most unfortunately. For she appeared to feel no such regard in return. She is a quiet creature, most reserved unless in the presence of … of her sister."

"Could it be perhaps that she is shy?" Georgiana spoke from experience. Although she knew her brother didn't see her—or himself, if it came to that—as cold, or proud, or reserved, she was a keen enough observer to know that others mistook their innate shyness in just that way.

He shook his head. "I am convinced that no young lady brought up in such a family could have retained shyness of that severity."

"And so you persuaded Mr. Bingley to give up the attachment?"

"The house and the country, yes. The lady herself, yes. As you have no doubt seen, the attachment lingers. I fear he will be a long time recovering from it." Fitzwilliam was staring off into the distance, across the fields, his voice so low she could hardly hear him.

"Why should he recover from it, if the lady made him happy?" Georgiana had a feeling they were no longer speaking of Mr. Bingley; she had never heard quite this depth of feeling from her brother when speaking of women. Most typically they laughed together over the women their relations threw at his head, or pitied the ladies for being subject to the matrimonial market. But there was no laughter in his voice today, and no pity. "Perhaps it would have been as well to allow the attachment, even if it is one-sided?"

"Allow the attachment? When she has no fortune, no family connections to boast of, and her own family is shamefully ill-behaved? No."

"Tell me about her, then."

Fitzwilliam turned to look at her. "About Miss Bennet?"

"About Miss _Elizabeth_ Bennet." At his frown, Georgiana smiled. "Did you think I could not tell? Mr. Bingley is plainly not the only one who formed an attachment in Hertfordshire."

"I had not realized it was so obvious. Georgiana … Georgiana." He sighed heavily, sitting down next to her. "I feel I should apologize to you. This is not—not what I owe to you."

"Your happiness is what you owe to me. Can this Elizabeth Bennet make you happy?" She poked him in the arm.

"I … How do I know? She has a mischievous face, not unlike that of someone else I know," he said, returning the poke, "and a quick wit. She said she loves to laugh, although I never was fortunate enough to hear her do so. And when I—" He broke off, swallowing visibly, and his right hand spread out and then relaxed on his leg. "But her family is insufferable, her fortune nonexistent, she thinks me cold and unpleasant, and—" Fitzwilliam glanced at Georgiana and then shook his head. "There may be another man who holds her interest." He held up a hand before Georgiana could ask for further details. "No. There is no more future for me with Miss Elizabeth Bennet than there is for my friend Charles Bingley with her sister."

Georgiana hated to see her beloved brother so unhappy. She looped her arm through his, shifting closer on the bench to offer her wordless support, knowing well that no words of hers would sway him when his mind was so thoroughly made up.

"You would have liked her," he said softly. "Yes, you would have liked her very much."

She was filled with curiosity about this woman who had Fitzwilliam so conflicted. Imagine, having four sisters! Such richness of family. But none of them were worth as much as such a brother as Fitzwilliam, she thought, thinking of the pianoforte he had surprised her with and all the hours he had spent patiently listening to her as she wept over Mr. Wickham and the laughs he teased out of her when she had thought herself emptied of laughter. She wished nothing so much for Fitzwilliam as a woman who would do all those things for him in return.


	2. Wishes and Promises

_Well, wow! Thanks so much for the enthusiastic reception of the first chapter! I was inspired by all of you to move the second chapter along faster than I had anticipated. The third chapter might take a bit longer - I want to reread the book and sketch out a timeline for the rest of the story, and apparently I really must pick up a copy of the Colin Firth version of the movie! _

* * *

_One week later, still at Pemberley:_

"Must you leave for London already? I had hoped you would stay longer than a week." Georgiana reached for her brother's hand. "Fitzwilliam, don't go so soon."

"I must. Charles—Mr. Bingley—is restless here, and I want to take him to town to give him some employment." Unspoken was their mutual agreement that Miss Caroline Bingley couldn't possibly leave Pemberleysoon enough, and she wouldn't go without her brother.

Georgiana knew better than to ask if she might accompany them. Before the disastrous affair with Mr. Wickham the previous summer, she had been supposed to make her debut this year. But she had lost her taste for it, and Fitzwilliam would not hear of it now. Perhaps next year they would both be ready. And she did love to be home, here in the big spacious light-filled rooms and the fields to ramble in and the peaceful quiet. If only he would stay, too, she could be perfectly happy.

Something had changed in her brother. Always reserved in company, he was usually his lightest and most at ease in her presence. Now he gazed off into the empty air, his face pensive and worried, and had difficulty holding onto the thread of a conversation. He had not forgotten Miss Elizabeth Bennet, that much was plain to Georgiana.

She left him to his accounts; he had a stack of bills and papers on the desk in front of him to deal with before he could leave for London. Georgiana wished it was twice as high. Walking out onto the broad terrace, she looked across the fields and sighed. Oh, if she were only a man. If she were a man, she could saddle a horse and ride away—to London with Fitzwilliam, perhaps, or, better, to Hertfordshire, to the home of the Bennets. She would ride into the courtyard and swing down from the horse and demand to see this woman who had altered her beloved brother so.

Or perhaps, if she were older and out in society, she could take a carriage and drive across the country and take tea with Miss Elizabeth. They would talk, and Miss Elizabeth would avow her own love for Fitzwilliam and Georgiana could smooth away the obstacles that were causing Fitzwilliam such distress. Then she and Miss Elizabeth could be friends and call each other by nicknames. She would refer to Miss Elizabeth as Beth. Or Betsy. No, definitely Lizzie. And Miss Elizabeth would call her Georgy. No one ever had before, and Georgiana thought it would be lovely to have a friend who did.

What would Lizzie have to say that could convince Fitzwilliam how wrong he was? Because surely Lizzie loved him; who wouldn't? Georgiana thought if she could only decide how Miss Elizabeth Bennet would convince him, then she could use the same tactics. She hated to see him so unlike himself, so severe and unsmiling, her beloved brother whose smile lit his face just as the stars lit the night sky.

Thinking hard, she paid too little attention to where she was going and ran into Charles Bingley as he was coming out of the house, her nose smashing against one of his buttons.

"Oh, Miss Darcy, I am sorry," he said, horror-stricken, as she stepped back, rubbing her nose.

"My fault entirely, Mr. Bingley. I should have been watching where I was going."

"As should I, it seems."

"What is it that has you too lost in thought to see someone in front of you?" she asked, looking up at his guileless countenance. Maybe he would tell her what Fitzwilliam would not.

Mr. Bingley's smile faded. "Nothing of consequence, I'm afraid."

Tucking her arm into the crook of his elbow, she walked with him. "I am sorry you are all going to be leaving so soon. We have barely had a chance to catch up." His sister's constant match-making attempts aside, she quite liked this big friendly open-hearted man; her regret at his hasty departure was genuine. And knowing that his affections were turned elsewhere, she need not worry about giving the wrong impression.

"I am sorry as well. London is not so much to my taste. I prefer the country, the quiet life."

"I thought that was what you sought in Hertfordshire."

"It was. And I thought … but it is of no consequence."

"Will you give up the house there, then? I understood Fitzwilliam to say that the shooting would be very fine there in the fall."

"Perhaps it would have been. I mean, would be." Mr. Bingley sighed heavily. "I may retain the house for some little time. It would be … hard … to give it up so quickly."

Georgiana was perceptive enough to see that he was speaking of more than the house. "The people in the neighborhood surrounding it sound quite lively. There was a family of five girls? Imagine so many in one house." Her own house was more than large enough to contain as many girls and more, but she doubted Mr. Bingley would quibble with the sentiment.

He flushed deep red, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "Yes. It would seem rather a lot, wouldn't it? I did have the pleasure of making their acquaintance. Quite a boisterous family, such energy. Being more the quiet sort myself, I was a bit overwhelmed by them. The mother, particularly, spoke very fast. It was hard to know what to say in return."

"Did they all speak so fast?"

"No. The eldest sister was—" He broke off, swallowing visibly. "She was much the quietest."

"She was the one who was ill at your home, was she not? And the sister who came to stay, Miss …?"

"Miss Elizabeth." He smiled now, as if at a memory. "Miss Elizabeth was not so loud as her mother, nor quite as overwhelming in her speech, but she had a quick wit. Fortunately she turned that wit more on your brother than on myself—he has much more felicity than I when the conversation turns so rapidly."

"So he engaged in conversation with Miss Elizabeth?"

"Only when required to do so." Mr. Bingley gave her a conspiratorial smile. "You are aware, I'm sure, of how quiet he can be when in company, although I daresay he does not see it so readily in himself as we do."

The conversation was interrupted by the footman appearing on the terrace; he bowed, informing Mr. Bingley that the carriage had been called for and would be brought around in an hour's time.

Disentangling his arm from Georgiana's, Mr. Bingley bowed to her. "That means I must go make certain all is in readiness. Miss Darcy, as always, it has been a pleasure."

"The pleasure was mine, Mr. Bingley. Do come again. And … in the meantime, I do wish you happiness."

He frowned, not quite understanding her. To forestall any questions and avoid embarrassing him with her knowledge of his plight, she bobbed a curtsey.

"Safe travels, Mr. Bingley."

"Thank you." He left her to go determine whether his sister was quite ready to depart; as she was. Miss Caroline Bingley, finding the lures cast Mr. Darcy's way thrown in vain, and finding her brother as willfully blind to the charms of Miss Darcy's fortune as ever, was more than desirous of their swift departure for London and the society she so enjoyed.

Georgiana found herself alone with her brother as the carriage was being brought around and Miss Bingley was raising a fuss looking for a lost feather from a headdress she had worn two days previously. Under cover of the flurry, they would have a few moments to say good-bye privately. For once, Georgiana appreciated Miss Bingley and her obsession with meaningless trifles. A feather, of all things!

"Fitzwilliam, I do wish next time you come you would stay longer. It seems I barely saw you and now here you are off again."

"I promise, next time I come, we will have a good long time together," he said, putting his arms around her. Georgiana pressed her face against his chest. She didn't like to admit, even to herself, how much she depended on him. Knowing that all the love at her disposal was contained in one person sometimes overwhelmed her; much as she treasured her beloved brother, she longed for a larger family connection to be surrounded by. Her mind kept going back to the five sisters … imagine such richness of familial devotion! She feared she was at risk of developing her own obsession with the Bennets of Hertfordshire. How could she convince her brother to further the relationship with Miss Elizabeth that he so clearly longed for, against his better judgement and the restrictions of class that they lived under?

"Will you make me another promise?"

"What is that?" He looked at her indulgently, no doubt imagining she was about to ask for a frippery to be sent to her from London.

"I do not like to see you so downcast, and I fear you will remain so until you resolve what's troubling you."

The smile on his face faded, and he appeared to be about to speak, but Georgiana gripped the front of his coat, looking up at him earnestly.

"You know what I speak of. The promise I ask is that, if the chance should arise of your seeing … _that person_ again—" She cast a quick glance over her shoulder to be sure Miss Bingley was still occupied with her belongings and not listening to them. "If that opportunity does present itself, promise me you will take it to improve your acquaintance and determine once and for all if it is as impossible as you say, or if, perhaps, the inclination has passed."

It hadn't; she could tell as much from his face. A twisting mix of emotions showed in his eyes as he looked down at her. "You cannot know what you are asking."

"You cannot know what you are giving up until you have taken the time to consider the matter thoroughly." Perhaps, as the younger and less experienced sibling, she should not have been giving him advice. But Georgiana had been most strongly attached to Mr. Wickham the previous year. She remembered what that felt like all too vividly, it seemed at times. To her knowledge, Fitzwilliam had never found himself in the grip of such emotions. "Promise me, Fitzwilliam."

Miss Bingley was sweeping toward them, if that studiedly languorous walk of hers could be considered 'sweeping'. Fitzwilliam clearly would very much have liked to argue, but in the end, he proved what he had often said—that he could deny his sister nothing. "Very well. I promise. Not that I expect such an opportunity to arise."

"Stranger things have been known to occur."

"You have been reading too many novels. I shall speak with your governess about guiding your inclination toward more weighty books." He smiled at her, his old teasing smile, and she couldn't help but smile back.

"Where do you think I find those novels? In her sewing basket when she falls asleep after tea."

They both laughed. With a final affectionate embrace, he joined Mr. Bingley and Miss Bingley, whose complaints could be heard from inside the carriage, and they were gone.

Georgiana turned slowly and went back inside the house, to while away the time with her pianoforte until he should come back again.


	3. Rejected

_Many thanks to all of you for reading, reviewing, and setting the story to alerts and favorites. Your enthusiasm is very inspiring!_

* * *

_After the proposal at Rosings:_

Georgiana was just sitting down to breakfast when one of the maids rushed in. "Oh, Miss Darcy! Your brother—"

She didn't finish because Fitzwilliam was behind her. He put a hand on the maid's arm, nudging her out of the way.

"Fitzwilliam!" Georgiana got no farther; shock at his appearance stopped her tongue. He was haggard and hollow-eyed, his hair tumbled around his face, his cheeks unshaven, his clothing travel-stained and wrinkled. A picture more unlike her well-turned-out brother she couldn't have imagined. "What has happened? Is—" She stopped herself. Clearly, everything was not well. Not well at all. She got up from the table, hurrying to his side.

Her brother took her by the arms, and for a moment Georgiana thought he might shake her, so dark did his face look. And then he drew her close against him, leaning down to rest his forehead against her shoulder. She could feel fine tremors shaking him.

"Fitzwilliam, are you ill?" Over his shoulder, she waved at the maid, indicating that they should be left alone. The girl got the message, ducking out of the room and quietly closing the doors behind her.

It seemed that the closing of the doors of the dining room opened something in Fitzwilliam. "Georgiana," he whispered hoarsely, "I have kept my promise."

Oh. Georgiana shivered at the pain in his voice, pain that she had caused, even if indirectly, by tasking him to explore his feelings for this shadowy Miss Elizabeth who clearly was too blind to see a good man when he stood before her.

"She refused me. In words that—" He groaned, pulling away from Georgiana and rubbing his hands over his eyes. "Words that she thought I deserved. None of what she said to me was unfair; much of what I said to her was—not unfair, precisely, but unkind. A man could not have offered for a woman's hand less graciously than I did."

"But why? Why did you approach her so, if you wanted her to accept?"

"Did I?" Fitzwilliam said, taking a seat at the table and leaning his head on his hands. "Perhaps I didn't. It is, after all, often easier to be refused and have done with it than to cling to an unsuitable attachment."

"So you offered for her by insulting her, to be assured that she wouldn't accept?" Georgiana frowned. "That sounds ungenerous of you, Fitzwilliam. I have never known you to behave so before."

"No. Nor have I. I would never have considered such a thing. But Li—Miss Elizabeth … I can't get her out of my mind. And then I saw her again, and she—I could not bear not to have spoken."

"When was this?"

"When?" He looked up at her, his eyes bloodshot. "Yesterday, I think. After church, I found her outside, and made bold to speak to her then."

"And she refused you?"

"Vehemently." He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"When was the last time you slept, Fitzwilliam?"

"Night before last, I think. I saw her, two nights ago, at Lady Catherine's home, and we spoke, and it was—I felt—What does it matter now?" He got up, his blazing eyes looking into Georgiana's. "It's over now, or it should be, if I could just forget—"

"We should get you to bed." Georgiana took his hand in hers, leading him from the room. "Your horse?"

"In the stables."

The footmen would no doubt have seen to his bags. Georgiana hoped they were finished unpacking, because Fitzwilliam needed to sleep. He was so drowsy he stumbled several times. "You would like her," he mumbled, half-asleep, as they climbed the stairs. "My Lizzie."

'Lizzie', then? Oh, he was far gone, and over a woman who did not have the wit to see his worth. Georgiana would have given much to be able to see 'Lizzie' just now, to have given the other woman a piece of her mind.

"Will you be able to sleep?" she asked her brother at the door of his bedroom, knowing as soon as the words left her lips that it was a foolish question. She watched him shuffle to his bed and fall onto it, and quietly shut the door behind him.

Georgiana, on the other hand, had trouble finding her rest that night. She felt tremendously guilty for having forced Fitzwilliam to make her that promise. If she hadn't done so, would he still have placed himself in Miss Elizabeth Bennet's way and been unable to stop himself from asking for her hand? She tossed and turned, trying to picture how such a scene could have gone so wrong. Fitzwilliam was strongly opinioned, that was certain, and he could express himself forcefully and with passion, and no doubt he had done so to Miss Elizabeth—'Lizzie'. But to have offered for her in such a way as to force her to turn him down, and insult her in the process? That did not at all sound to Georgiana like her kind, gentlemanly, generous brother.

She resolved to catch him in the morning and ask for more details. But due to her sleepless night, she arose late, and found him just leaving the breakfast table with an expression that did not invite entreaty. She tried to speak to him anyway, but he brushed her off. Kindly, to be sure, but firmly.

"I will be leaving later this afternoon for London. Pressing affairs require my attention there," he said.

"So soon? Fitzwilliam!"

"I'm sorry." He hurried from the room, leaving her to breakfast alone.

She dared, later, to venture into the study with a hot cup of tea, which he accepted gratefully. "You can't have slept well," she remarked, putting one hand on his shoulder as she stood behind him.

"Tolerably enough. You needn't worry about me, Georgiana." He pressed his hand over hers, looking up at her with a smile.

"I always worry about you, dear brother. I have little else to do." She added the last almost under her breath, but his eyes softened.

"We shall see about finding you more congenial company. Would you like to come to London with me?"

"Yours is the most congenial company I can think of. Will you not stay here?"

The shadow of his unhappiness crossed his face again. "I am not particularly congenial at the moment."

"Fitzwilliam, I don't understand."

"Don't speak of it!"

"No, I must. Because I know you, and I know you to be a man who thinks of the feelings of others—often so much so that you are unable to speak when in company, for fear of offending someone."

That got her a smile, and Fitzwilliam shook his head. "You give me too much credit. Rather than fear of offense, it is inability to think of light, diverting conversation that stills my tongue."

"You may think of yourself that way if you choose, but I know better." She gave him a quick, affectionate hug. "You must have gone out of your way to be rude to Miss Elizabeth."

"I … stated rather clearly all the reasons why I should not have thought of marrying her," he admitted. "I thought she should hear both sides of the question."

"And she did not agree?"

"Would you have, if a gentleman protested to love you against all logic and against his own inclinations?"

Georgiana tried to imagine it … but for such a man as her brother to admit that his love was stronger than his caution? Surely Miss Elizabeth must have seen the force of his emotions. She said as much, and Fitzwilliam chuckled.

"She did. And she returned them with force of her own. She accused me of—some things which I had done, and some things which I had not."

"What did you do?"

"I accepted her refusal. It was my due. But I could not leave without having—I could not bear to have her continue thinking of me as she did. I wrote a letter to explain to her why I had done some of the things I had done."

"And you gave it to her, and she read it, and she still did not accept your suit?" He flushed, looking away, and Georgiana clucked her tongue. "Fitzwilliam, did you not even wait until she had read your letter and could respond?"

"Waiting was more than I could bear." He closed his eyes, bending his head toward the desk. "What could she say? I had, indeed, convinced Charles to withdraw from her sister, for many of the same reasons I was so unwilling to yield to my own affections. And I had been just as proud and just as cold in bearing as she thought I had been."

"So Miss Bennet did love Mr. Bingley? I am so glad!"

"Glad? Yes. Yes, I suppose so." He sighed heavily. "It changes nothing. Her family is still … untenable."

"You offered for her despite them. Might not Charles feel the same?"

"Charles's family would not feel the same, and he would suffer for it. Besides, I told myself many times that I could not bear to attach myself to such a family. I believed it then. I believe it now, for that matter. But when I was near her I_—_I should not be speaking to you of this."

"To whom else would you speak? Did you not listen patiently to me last summer, to every besotted word?"

"It was my pleasure to do so," he said, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. "Miss Elizabeth had been listening to Mr. Wickham's account of his woes. She cast my treatment of him into my face."

Georgiana drew in a shocked breath. "I hope you set her straight."

"I did. In the letter I wrote her, I explained the situation from my—our—perspective."

"Do you think she will believe you?"

"She is a woman of character and intelligence. She will not dismiss my words out of hand. But Mr. Wickham has a golden tongue. It may be that he will feel a genuine—"

Georgiana made a rude noise that she had learned from one of the footmen, to cover the pain she still felt. She no longer loved Wickham, to be sure, but it hurt to consider that she had been so thoroughly taken in by his smooth manners and easy charm. She would not allow that to happen to her again.

"I am sorry," Fitzwilliam said. "I would not bring up painful memories for all the world."

"I cannot go around pretending it never happened forever. I am not the same girl I was before it all happened, and I need to be aware of that."

"You could be again. You needn't let him alter you," Fitzwilliam said, pressing her hand.

"I don't think I have much choice." Georgiana straightened, removing her hand from her brother's grasp. "But enough about me. My troubles are in the past. Yours are present, and we must resolve them."

Fitzwilliam smiled, albeit sadly. "I do not think there is a resolution to be attempted. She has refused me."

"But she was not in possession of all the facts. Perhaps now that you have explained yourself, she may be persuaded to think differently."

"What an optimist you are, Georgiana. Or are you a romantic?" Fitzwilliam removed his pocket watch, consulting it for a moment. "She will not change her mind, I think."

"Nor will you, no matter how you may pretend to be too busy for your feelings to keep up with you."

"Perhaps you are right. But I will not put myself in that position again, to be that … vulnerable." The last word was almost lost as he stoodup. He gathered the papers on his desk, placing them in a neat stack. "I am sorry to be leaving you so soon."

"When will you come back?"

"Soon, I promise."

She considered teasing for a surprise, as she used to do, but in the current circumstances she thought he might take it the wrong way. "Do take care of yourself, Fitzwilliam."

"I shall attempt to do so." His small smile made it a joke, but the sadness still lurked beneath it.

Georgiana stood in the doorway, watching as Fitzwilliam rode down the lane. His shoulders still slumped, his posture not what she was used to seeing. Fitzwilliam had dared to dream of something fragile and precious, and he had lost that dream. With it, he had lost Georgiana's, as well. Her own shoulders slumped as she turned to go inside.


	4. Unexpected

_Thanks for reading, all! This one's a bit on the short side, but it sets up the first meeting with Lizzie, which I'm excited to get to._

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Georgiana bent her head over the pianoforte keys, concentrating on the music. It was a sad, slow piece, suitable to the quiet day. She had heard the housekeeper let a party in to the house; they were in the sculpture room now, she thought. She tried to play softly, hoping no one would hear the music and be tempted to come find her.

A particularly tricky part of the piece came up, and she smiled, enjoying the challenge and the practiced movements of her fingers, knowing just what to do. There was really no feeling quite like it.

And then a hand rested on her shoulder. She practically leaped off the stool, and then did leap into the arms of her brother. "Fitzwilliam, you should have sent me word you were coming!"

He laughed, spinning her around the way she loved. "I didn't know myself. I—" His words stopped; he stared into the mirror over the piano as though he had seen a ghost.

"Fitzwilliam?"

"Wait here." The words were an afterthought; he was halfway to the door, practically running.

As soon as he was out of the room, Georgiana hurried to the window. Peering out, she could see Fitzwilliam running across the veranda after a young woman with dark hair. Georgiana's breath caught. Could this be the famous 'Lizzie'? It must be; for no other woman on earth would Fitzwilliam look so strange and awkward and eager. Why on earth would Miss Elizabeth Bennet be at Pemberley?

Fitzwilliam and his Lizzie were staring at one another, both of them standing stiffly, clearly uncomfortable. So it appeared that she was not there to apologize and profess her love for him. Georgiana's heart sank. If she didn't want Fitzwilliam, why couldn't she leave him alone? What was the purpose of observing a man's house when you had already made it clear you had no interest in being mistress there?

Or, yet worse … perhaps this Miss Elizabeth was there to see for herself what she had turned down. Perhaps she had changed her mind under consideration of Fitzwilliam's ten thousand a year. That would be dreadful, to have her brother wedded to a woman who cared for his money alone. For a moment, fear gripped Georgiana's heart. Would such a woman turn her out of her beautiful home? Change Pemberley into a place of excess and fill it with people of Caroline Bingley's stamp?

But even as the thoughts crossed her mind, Georgiana reconsidered. She could see over Fitzwilliam's shoulder into the face of this woman she supposed to be Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and there was none of the proudness or greed of a woman on the hunt for a fortune in it. This woman looked discomfited; she fidgeted as she spoke. And there was a softness in her look as she turned her face up to Fitzwilliam that made Georgiana wonder if her brother had been entirely wrong about this woman's feelings toward him.

The woman turned and ran down the steps in a flurry of skirts. Georgiana was surprised Fitzwilliam did not go after her. He stood there for a long moment, stockstill, before turning and hurrying just as fast in the opposite direction. Georgiana could hear him calling out to a waiting groom for his horse, and then, very shortly, she saw him racing down the lane. Where could he be going so fast? Fitzwilliam was usually very careful with his horses. She hoped he wasn't going after Miss Elizabeth. Or did she? Perhaps he would catch up to her, as Miss Elizabeth appeared to be walking, judging from the absence of a carriage, and convince her to accept his proposal this time.

Georgiana's brief surge of optimism was short-lived; Fitzwilliam was too proud a man to press his suit on a woman who was so clearly not receptive to it. He would only be hurt, once again, and Georgiana could hardly bear to see that happen. She sat down to her pianoforte, but the music that flowed from her fingers was discordant, and she soon stopped playing, unable to concentrate.

Fortunately for her, Fitzwilliam's step was heard in the hall shortly afterward, and he came into the room exuberantly, sweeping Georgiana into his arms and swinging her around for the second time that day.

"My dear sister, you will never guess who has been here."

"Possibly I could, but I see you are bursting to tell me yourself. Who was it?"

"Elizabeth Bennet!"

"Here? Whatever could she have been thinking?"

"She had been informed I was not in residence, and it was the particular wish of her aunt and uncle to view Pemberley." Whether it had been Miss Elizabeth's own particular wish, Fitzwilliam did not say. Georgiana wondered—surely she must have had some curiosity, else why not protest against the plan?

"And you spoke with her?" Not for anything would Georgiana have admitted to having spied upon her brother's conversation. Sixteen was entirely too old for such goings-on … or so she was certain he would say.

"I did." He was trying to repress a smile, but having little success. Anything she had wanted to know about her brother's continued feelings was clear in the light in his eyes.

She wanted to ask if Miss Elizabeth had altered her opinion, but that seemed a presumptuous question. Instead, she asked, "Will we be seeing her again, or has she left the neighborhood?"

Fitzwilliam's smile burst through his attempts to suppress it, and lit the room. "I invited her aunt and uncle to dine here tomorrow, and they are coming. She will be here tomorrow afternoon. Georgiana, I cannot wait for you to meet her."

"My sentiments exactly, dear brother." She squeezed his arm. "Now, what shall we do to entertain her?"

He stared down at her, the smile frozen on his face. "Entertain her? I … thought we would dine, and …"

"In short, you did not think. At least, not to any purpose." She had to laugh at the flummoxed expression on his face. "Does she play?" It was a question she had been longing to ask.

"She does. She plays … quite well."

"Well, then. We can play duets!" Oh, how Georgiana looked forward to playing a duet with Miss Elizabeth—Lizzy. "And then, perhaps, a hand at cards? Although no doubt her uncle will want to fish, or hunt, or some other such manly sport, in which case Miss Elizabeth and her aunt and I can have a nice visit." She patted Fitzwilliam on the arm. "Leave it to me; I shall play hostess of Pemberley and hope I can do it credit."

"Are you certain?" He looked doubtful.

Sobering, Georgiana looked up into her brother's eyes. "Trust me. I will not let you down."


	5. In the Same Room

_This is another slightly shorter one, and follows the scene from the movie faithfully. Since it was the scene that inspired this story, I wanted to capture it as is as much as possible. Thanks for reading!_

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As the time set for Miss Elizabeth and her aunt and uncle to arrive came closer, Fitzwilliam paced back and forth, first standing and staring out the window, then retreating across the room in an attempt to make time pass faster by not watching for the arrival of the carriage, and then returning to the window in an agony of impatience. Georgiana resolutely took her seat at the pianoforte, beginning to play a detailed, intricate piece that would require her concentration. The diversion worked—she was soon engrossed in the music, and even Fitzwilliam had been drawn to the instrument to watch her fingers dance over the keys.

They were both startled when the door opened and their visitors were announced. Fitzwilliam stood as if frozen; Georgiana was off her piano bench and hurrying toward the dark-haired girl with the fine eyes before her brother had stirred a step.

"Miss Elizabeth!"

Fitzwilliam was catching up; he came to her side, his eyes fixed on Miss Elizabeth's face as though he could not have looked away if he'd wanted to. "My sister, Miss Georgiana," he said, and it was clear Miss Elizabeth hadn't missed the informality of the introduction. He ought to have introduced her as "Miss Darcy." Indeed, Miss Elizabeth ought to have introduced the man and woman behind her, quite obviously her aunt and uncle. But Georgiana was too excited by finally meeting this fabled creature to stand upon ceremony.

"My brother has told me so much about you; I feel as if we are friends already." She did. There was something winning in Miss Elizabeth's shy smile and in the way she stood in the midst of the room, neither overawed nor overly impressed by the fine things that surrounded her. There was humor in her face, too, and Georgiana was ready to talk to her about anything and everything.

"Thank you." Miss Elizabeth clearly seemed a bit overwhelmed by the effusive greeting. She smiled politely, but appeared unsure of how to respond. Her eyes roamed, not quite meeting either Fitzwilliam's or Georgiana's eager gazes. "What a beatiful pianoforte!" she exclaimed at last.

It was, indeed. Georgiana glowed with pleasure, not least because it gave her the opportunity to praise Fitzwilliam. "My brother gave it to me. Of course, he shouldn't have." She glanced at him proudly.

He tore his gaze from Miss Elizabeth long enough to glance Georgiana's way. "Yes, I should."

"Oh, very well, then."

Fitzwilliam looked back at Miss Elizabeth, smiling at her. "Very easily persuaded, is she not?"

"Your unfortunate brother once had to put up with my playing for an entire evening," Miss Elizabeth said. Her smile in response was a natural one, not studied, and Georgiana liked her the more for it.

"But he says you play so well." She cast her brother a sidelong glance of amusement.

"Then he has perjured himself most appallingly."

Fitzwilliam laughed, his real laugh, the one Georgiana so rarely saw amongst other people. In that moment, she fell a little in love with Miss Elizabeth herself. Anyone who could make her brother that happy was well worth having, in her opinion.

"No, I said you play quite well," he said.

"'Quite well' is not 'very well', I'm satisfied." They gazed at each other, both caught in the single still moment of happiness.

At last Fitzwilliam, seeming to remember that he and Miss Elizabeth were not alone in the room, glanced in Georgiana's direction. She couldn't help the smile that came to her own face, watching them together, and he flushed under her gaze. Abruptly, he said, "Mr. Gardiner, are you fond of fishing?"

The change of subject took the whole room by surprise.

"Very much, sir," Mr. Gardiner replied.

"Then can I persuade you to accompany me to the lake this afternoon?" Fitzwilliam was speaking very fast, and looking over Miss Elizabeth's shoulder as if the effort to be in the same room with her was suddenly too much. "It's very well stocked," he went on, "and its occupants have been left in peace for far too long."

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner exchanged a glance, and Mr. Gardiner said, "I would be delighted!" His wife seemed less so, and Georgiana was initially of the same mind—any plan that kept Fitzwilliam and Miss Elizabeth apart seemed to her to be poorly thought out. But then she considered that she would have several hours alone with the two ladies, and surely in those several hours she could determine what Miss Elizabeth's feelings were toward Fitzwilliam. Judging from the look of dismay on Miss Elizabeth's face, she had counted on spending more time with Fitzwilliam, and Georgiana viewed that as a very positive sign.

"Do you play duets, Miss Elizabeth?" she asked. One could discover a great many things about someone when sitting side by side with them at the pianoforte. She resolutely refused to think about sitting thus with Mr. Wickham, teaching him to play. That part of her life had been a dream, a nightmare, and it was over now.

"Only when forced," Miss Elizabeth said.

"Brother, you must force her," Georgiana said decidedly, and Fitzwilliam laughed.

"My sister can be most demanding."

"In that case, it appears I must accept," said Miss Elizabeth, "but I beg of you to be easy with me; I am assuredly not a player of your quality, Miss Georgiana."

"I find that hard to believe." She didn't, actually. Miss Elizabeth hardly struck her as someone who would fall victim to false modesty. Georgiana was already sorting through her music to find something that would be simple enough to allow them both to play well while still being interesting enough that Miss Elizabeth wouldn't feel that she was being condescended to. "I believe I know just the thing. Fitzwilliam, we will see you at dinner in a few hours?"

He was staring at Miss Elizabeth, and Georgiana cleared her throat to catch his attention.

"Yes? Oh! Yes, in a few hours. Mr. Gardiner, this way, if you please."

Mrs. Gardiner seated herself on the sofa while Miss Elizabeth and Georgiana took their place at the pianoforte. As their fingers poised themselves over the keys, Georgiana began to think of what she could say to plead her brother's case without seeming to do so.

"Now, Miss Elizabeth. Let us begin."


	6. A Day at Pemberley

_Sorry this has taken so long, everyone! Real life frustrations have been cutting into my writing time and this chapter was a bit more difficult than I'd anticipated. Thanks for reading!_

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Georgiana and Miss Elizabeth played harmoniously for some time. The gap between their skills was smaller than Georgiana had feared it might be; Miss Elizabeth would play better if she enjoyed it more. Her natural talent was limited, it seemed, but she also paid little attention to the flow of the music. Clearly her inclinations lay elsewhere.

"Do you paint, Miss Elizabeth?" she asked during a pause.

"No, not at all. Our education was not focused in the directions of those skills and talents." With a twinkling glance from her brown eyes, Miss Elizabeth smiled. "In truth, our education was quite unfocused. We learned what we chose to take an interest in, with the end result that we are all sadly unbalanced."

"Ah." Somewhat sadly, Georgiana said, "I received a rather more traditional education. I wonder what I might have chosen to take an interest in, if the opportunity had offered."

"Music seems to interest you well enough."

"Oh, yes, I love it! But no doubt there are more useful abilities to cultivate."

"I supposed that depends on what you intend to accomplish with your life. One might say you already delight the ear with your playing, which is of itself an accomplishment. My preferred hobby, reading, accomplishes much within myself, but does little for others."

Georgiana looked at her companion in surprise, not having expected such a candid or thoughtful response. "I'm certain your friends and family would disagree with you. " She hesitated, then added, "My brother certainly seems to see your value."

Miss Elizabeth's eyes widened, her mouth parting in surprise. She looked away, getting up from the piano bench. "Your brother is generous to say so," she said, her back to Georgiana.

Her aunt was sitting on a chair, hands folded in her lap. She watched Miss Elizabeth walk to the window, looking out over the lawns, but didn't add to the conversation.

So many questions hovered on the tip of Georgiana's tongue. 'Do you have intentions toward my brother?' 'Is his regard misplaced?' And, most importantly, 'do you love him?' But it was not her place to ask those questions, and the answers should be for Fitzwilliam's ears, not for Georgiana's or Mrs. Gardiner's, however much they both would have liked to hear them. Instead, rising from the bench, she asked, "Miss Elizabeth, would you like to take a turn in the gardens? I understand you enjoy walking."

"I do indeed." There was a soft smile on Miss Elizabeth's face as she turned from the window. As she couldn't possibly see all the way to the lake where the gentlemen were fishing, Georgiana wondered what thought had brought that look to her face. She quite liked it—the other lady looked far less daunting and more approachable with that quiet smile. "I should quite like to see the gardens at Pemberley."

Mrs. Gardiner had opted to remain within doors, reading a book she had found on the library shelves (not, to Georgiana's great relief, one from the governess's collection). As Georgiana and Miss Elizabeth strolled through the gardens, they linked arms. The conversation mostly kept to the gardens themselves, the plants and the difficulties with bugs. Both girls enjoyed the flowers without having any particular desire to learn over much about the details of their cultivation, and they laughed a little together over the shared shame.

"We are sad horticulturists, Miss Georgiana."

"We are indeed. Our families should be ashamed of us."

The smile passed from Miss Elizabeth's face, and she looked away.

Georgiana glanced up at the sun. It appeared to have been a good hour since they came outside—surely it was nearing time for the gentlemen to return from their fishing. "Shall we go in? Perhaps we might find a nice refreshing glass of lemonade awaiting us."

"Yes, thank you." The animation returned to Miss Elizabeth's eyes like the sun peeking through a cloud, and Georgiana was glad to see it.

Mrs. Gardiner looked up from her book as they came in. "How were the gardens, my dears?"

"Quite nice, thank you, aunt," Miss Elizabeth responded, taking a seat next to the older woman. "Next time, you should join us."

"No doubt I'd have been in the way. I'm sure you two had much to talk about."

Miss Elizabeth looked confused, and Georgiana narrowed her eyes speculatively. Did Mrs. Gardiner suspect a tenderness between her niece and Fitzwilliam? Or was she trying to create one? Perhaps Mrs. Gardiner's matchmaking had been the impetus behind their original visit to Pemberley.

Just then, the doors opened and the gentlemen burst in. Fitzwilliam was talking animatedly about his plans for the grounds, as Mr. Gardiner listened thoughtfully. Any concerns Georgiana might have felt about the wisdom of the visit were erased when she saw her brother's face light up the moment he saw Miss Elizabeth. He attempted to cover his happiness with the mask of civility he usually wore when in company, and as far as the others could tell, perhaps he succeeded, but Georgiana knew him too well to be fooled. She only wished she could read Miss Elizabeth's face as well. She was an open person, as society went, but not so open as to reveal herself easily.

Dinner was announced shortly, before the gentlemen tired of telling fish stories. Of course, Fitzwilliam, who was an avid fisherman, never quite tired of telling fish stories, and it seemed he had found a kindred spirit in Mr. Gardiner, so perhaps the supply of tales would have filled whatever time they'd had. In either case, they went into dinner rather casually, paying little attention to the usually strict rules of precedence, and took their seats.

There was silence for the first time as they sat, waiting for the servants to finish ladling out the soup. The formality of the setting had Georgiana tongue-tied, feeling more like she did in usually in company, instead of the ease and enjoyment she had felt all afternoon with Miss Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner. Looking around the table, it was obvious that everyone else felt as she did. As hostess, wasn't it her duty to break the ice, to come up with a suitable topic of conversation that wold entertain them all? But her mind was a blank. She looked wide-eyed at Mrs. Gardiner, hoping the older woman could help her out of her predicament.

Mrs. Gardiner genteelly slurped her soup from the spoon, appearing completely oblivious to Georgiana's silent plea. Instead, Mr. Gardiner jumped in, with a question about frogs, of all things. Fitzwilliam, though seeming rather startled, was willing to discuss the types of frogs who lived around the edges of the Pemberley lake, and from there the talk moved to frog's legs and ways of preparing them. Soon conversation was flowing freely. Fitzwilliam even laughed a time or two, although he and Miss Elizabeth exchanged almost no comments directed at one another. For her part, Miss Elizabeth seemed quite focused on her food and her plate, shy in a way Georgiana would not have imagined her.

All too soon the dinner, which had begun so stiffly and ended in such lively conversation, was over. Georgiana rose with reluctance, leading the ladies to the drawing room, wondering what her brother and Mr. Gardiner would talk about over their port. She hoped they wouldn't stay at it long; she very much wanted her brother and Miss Elizabeth to have more time together.

Having spent the day together might have had them all bored with one another, but as they settled on the seats in the drawing room, Miss Elizabeth made a joke about frogs that set all three ladies laughing. The conversation was spirited enough to draw the men in from their port, Mr. Gardiner sinking gratefully onto the sofa next to his wife, while Fitzwilliam stood between Georgiana's chair and Miss Elizabeth's.

"Do sit down, brother. You're much too tall to loom over us in grandeur."

"Was I looming?" he asked in surprise. "That was not my intention."

"You never do seem to intend to loom, Mr. Darcy, but somehow you manage to do it all the same." Miss Elizabeth's upward glance was an arch one, but there was meaning behind it, of that Georgiana was certain.

"Do I? My apologies." He looked around for someplace to sit, but appeared to find all the other chairs—notably, all placed across the room from where Miss Elizabeth sat—not to his taste.

"Please, brother, have my seat." Georgiana knew a cue when she saw one. She stood up. "I shall play, shall I? I would enjoy it very much."

"In that case, I would like nothing better." He smiled at her in gratitude, and she smothered her own grin as she took her seat at the pianoforte. Of course, the problem with this arrrangement was that she could no longer hear what her brother and Miss Elizabeth were saying to one another, and she would very much have liked to do so. Watching them carefully, she tried to read their lips, but their body language was more easily discerned, and it said they were both feeling quite awkward, the conversation stilted and uncomfortable. Georgiana sighed. Well, she hadn't expected one evening to turn everything around, had she?

She hammered down on the keys, reaching a particularly lively point in the song. Truth be told, she had actually hoped one evening would turn everything around. Foolish of her, no doubt. Finishing the song, she closed the cover on the pianoforte just as Mr. Gardiner stood up to make their excuses. Fitzwilliam rose, too, and immediately offered to ride with them back to the village, as the roads were dark and the hired coachman might not know them as well as he did. His offer was gratefully accepted.

Miss Elizabeth came forward with her hands outstretched. "Miss Georgiana, thank you for opening your home to us."

"It was my pleasure. Come again anytime."

The other woman's eyes darted away from Georgiana's. She wouldn't, then. Nothing had changed. Fitzwilliam had, it was clear, fallen even more under the spell of this woman, and it was to no avail. Georgiana felt sick, and suddenly she couldn't wait for the visitors to leave. She longed simply to sit down and close her eyes and wish with everything she had that Miss Elizabeth would undergo a change of heart.


	7. A Familiar Story

_Thanks to all of you for reading - I appreciate your time! _

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Fitzwilliam was gone a very long time, taking Miss Elizabeth back to the inn. So long that Georgiana wondered if he had prevailed, and won the other woman's hand and heart … and then wondered if he had been in an accident on the road. Neither seemed believable: Miss Elizabeth appeared unmovable, and Fitzwilliam was an excellent horseman. But Georgiana was at a loss to explain his lengthy absence otherwise.

At last she determined to retire and began getting ready for bed. She was brushing her hair before the mirror when she heard swift footsteps in the hall and a light tap on her door. "Georgiana."

"Come in!"

He opened the door and stepped in, looking pale and distressed. "There has been a … a change in my plans. I must go to London immediately."

"What happened?" It wasn't good; that much she could see from his face. "Has someone been injured?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes." He started to speak, then caught himself. "I do not know when I will be able to return."

"Fitzwilliam, you must tell me more than that. What happened to you this evening?"

"I have no wish to hurt you."

"Me? What do I have to do with it?" A dreadful thought struck her. "Did I do, or say, something to offend Miss Elizabeth? Has she done something rash?"

"No, not in the least. She found you delightful."

"Did she? I'm glad to hear it. But if that's not the trouble, what is?"

"When we arrived at their lodging, a letter was awaiting Miss Elizabeth. It appears …" He took Georgiana's hand, squeezing it tightly. "It appears her youngest sister has run off, with someone I am afraid we know all too well."

Weakness flooded Georgiana, and she groped for her chair, sinking into it. Oh, yes, she remembered him, his soft words and charming smile, his exciting promises and his gentle fingers stroking her arm. She swallowed against her sudden nausea. "Mr. Wickham," she whispered. "Miss Elizabeth's sister has eloped with Mr. Wickham?"

Fitzwilliam's lips tightened. "My understanding of the situation is that elopement is the best one could hope for."

Georgiana closed her eyes, trying to ward off memories of the enticing whispers that had almost convinced her that elopement was the best course for herself, as well.

"How could she do such a thing?" Fitzwilliam said, more to himself than to his sister.

"Because she could not imagine a day without him," Georgiana said.

Fitzwilliam reached for her hand, squeezing tightly. "And because she had no loving family to stop her."

They both remembered the day he had found her hand-in-hand with Mr. Wickham. Once her suitor had left, in her innocent eagerness to share her excitement with her brother and gain his approval, she had told Fitzwilliam everything about Wickham's plans. He had listened with patience, asking detailed questions about the courtship. Only then had he left her to seek out Wickham, making it clear to that gentleman that if he ran off with Georgiana without her family's consent and approval, which he would never gain, her fortune would never come into his hands.

Georgiana had not seen Wickham again, and for a long time she had blamed her brother for her lover's defection. Later, with time and distance between them, she had thought more clearly about the things Wickham had said. All the wonderful things he'd wanted to do had been so expensive, and he had spoken so sharply about Fitzwilliam that for a brief while even she had begun to see her brother as Wickham saw him. Wickham had never wanted to listen to her play the pianoforte, and he had never asked her about her interests or her dreams for the future. He had taken for granted that she wanted what he wanted. Or, probably more accurate, he had never cared what she wanted at all.

She had gradually come to understand Fitzwilliam's actions and to forgive him for having stepped in on her behalf, but the topic remained undiscussed, both of them preferring to pretend that Mr. Wickham had never come between them. Georgiana knew what it cost Fitzwilliam to talk about him even now. What she could not guess was how this turn of events affected her brother's feelings for Miss Elizabeth Bennet. The runaway sister appeared destined to be tied to Mr. Wickham permanently; could Fitzwilliam still consider allying himself with the family under those circumstances? Assuming Miss Elizabeth would have eventually accepted his suit in the first place, of course.

"So you remained with Miss Elizabeth and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner for some time as they discussed what to do?"

Fitzwilliam looked discomfited. "It took Miss Elizabeth a long while to calm down from her initial distress. Naturally I waited to be certain she was in full command of herself. It was not my place to assist them in their decision-making." He glanced down at his boots. "Nor do I imagine there is much to decide. The girl is hopelessly compromised; they will have to see to it that Wickham marries her or she ruins the entire family."

"Will he marry her? If—if he wouldn't marry me without my fortune, and Miss Elizabeth's sister has no fortune …" Georgiana let the words trail off, feeling very tired and saddened. "How old is she, Fitzwilliam?"

"Fifteen, I believe. Just the age—"

"That I was." She sighed heavily. "Poor girl."

"Yes. Yes, poor girl indeed," Fitzwilliam said. His tone was stronger now, and he stood up straighter.

Georgiana remembered what he had said when he had first come into her room. "And you are going to go to London?"

Fitzwilliam shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "You may tell me it isn't my place, and you would be right to do so. But I know Wickham as Mr. Gardiner does not; I think I will have greater success not only in finding the fugitives, but in convincing Wickham to do the right thing by the young lady."

"Will you tell Miss Elizabeth what you did?"

"No!" His eyes flashed. "Assuming I can do anything at all, I will leave it as a secret, not to be told to her. I won't have her accepting my suit out of gratitude when she would not do so for love."

Georgiana nodded. It might not have been the course she would have chosen in her brother's shoes, but it was his way, and there was little point in arguing.

"How will you find them?"

"I unfortunately know a little of Mr. Wickham's habits. I will stay with Mr. Bingley, and will make my enquiries. I pray it will not be too late once I find them." His eyes fell on Georgiana. "I am sorry to have to bring up these memories."

"I can't go my whole life hiding from what I almost did." She stood up, reaching for his hand, and squeezed it reassuringly. "And I thank God you were there to keep me from it."

"As do I." He reached for her, pulling her close in a tight embrace. "I only hope I can do as much in this case."

Georgiana let him go, listening to the sound of his footsteps hurrying toward his own room to pack. She hoped so, too, feelng a kinship with this young girl, and a tremendous sympathy for her family.


	8. The Bright Side

_Thanks for reading! _

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It seemed a long while before any news arrived. Georgiana attempted to fill her days as best she could, practicing the pianoforte with furious concentration and reading as many books as she could manage in order to improve her mind for her next meeting with Miss Elizabeth. She felt confident that there must be one—surely such determination as Fitzwilliam's would win through eventually. Resolutely she refused to contemplate the possibility that he would fail to find Mr. Wickham and the runaway sister. That would put the rest of the sisters utterly beyond reach—at least, for a gentleman. He could not allow that to happen. Or, rather, she thought more practically, she hoped he wouldn't.

She imagined poor Miss Elizabeth's feelings as she worried over her sister, unable to do anything about the situation. How would she react, Georgiana wondered, if Fitzwilliam was in danger and she had no way of finding him or going to him for help? It would be miserable. She wasn't certain she would be able to endure such torment without acting … but then again, as women, they had no right to act, and no way to discover the truth of such escapades as this of the youngest Miss Bennet's. It was enough to make Georgiana wish she had been born a man, and could be allowed to be out in the world making decisions.

These speculations were fruitless, she told herself, restlessly leaving the pianoforte for the sunny gardens. What a pretty life, filled with fine things and the beauty of nature and everything nice she liked to eat … but useless. Lightly cupping the blossom of a rose, she looked into it, searching for her answers there.

A voice calling her name startled her, and she jerked the blossom off the bush involuntarily as she turned. One of the maids was coming toward her, holding a letter aloft. It must be from Fitzwilliam, Georgiana thought. She had left instructions that his letters be brought to her as soon as possible. Georgiana tucked the rose into her hair and took the envelope, thanking the maid. She slit it open carefully, removing the closely written letter, and hurried to the nearest bench to read it.

_Dearest Georgiana,_

_ The fugitives are found, and more easily than I had suspected they would be. The gentleman of our acquaintance is sadly lacking in imagination. Unfortunate for him, but very fortunate for the family of the young girl. I wish I had found her in a more sober frame of mind; she seems to understand very little of the position she had placed her family in and to care even less. I am grateful to you, sister, for the good sense and delicacy you displayed at a similar time in your life, and if I have not said so adequately before, I am proud of the way you handled yourself then and afterward. _

She smiled at that. His approval and respect meant so much to her—he stood in the place their parents would have held had they lived. It was gratifying to know that even though she had disappointed him by falling for Mr. Wickham's lures in the first place, she had met his expectations in overcoming the situation.

_I have, I hope, helped to manage the situation in such a way that Mr. Wickham should not be able to bring further disgrace to the Bennet family, and with the commission I have enabled him to purchase he should be placed where he can do no further damage to our family's harmony. These arrangements were made in the strictest confidence, which I believe he will honour. I have asked Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner to keep my confidence, as well, although I do not believe they fully understand the situation or the reason for my reticence. It is to Miss Elizabeth's credit that it appears none of her family is aware of what has occurred between us—she is very generous in her discretion._

'Generous in her discretion'? Georgiana mused. Possibly. Or perhaps she was embarrassed at the way she had treated Fitzwilliam. Georgiana wished she could get the two of them alone in a room and force them to talk with one another. But as polite and stubborn as they both were, doubtless they would dance around the most important topics and nothing would be discussed and no progress would be made. She sighed, turning her attention back to the letter.

_Before I may leave London, there is just one small task remaining that I wish to discharge. Also, I do want to make certain that Mr. Wickham's situation is properly taken care of, down to the dotting of the final 'i'. At the very least, this occurrence has removed the danger of his leading any more young women astray. We can be thankful for that much, even if I grieve for Miss Elizabeth in having her sister, and the rest of her family, permanently tied to such a man. _

_ I hope that reading this has not brought you further pain. At least there is some relief in knowing that the man who caused much of our problems has been removed from our lives, hopefully for good. The only chance of further entanglement with Mr. Wickham is if that wish of mine that you know of should come to fruition … but the lady in question has left little room for hope in my heart, and so I must search for another bright side in all of this. _

_The final task remaining to me will, if it succeeds, no doubt take me elsewhere than London for a brief time, but once that is done, I hope to return to Pemberley and to you, dearest sister, for a good long while. I need the healing consolation of home and family after all that has occurred. I vow henceforth to be a more devoted brother and to take a greater interest in your time and welfare. You are very dear to me, Georgiana, and I hope that you know that._

_ Your loving brother,_

_ Fitzwilliam_

Tears sprang to her eyes as she folded the letter up. All her life, she had looked up to her intelligent, well-spoken, generous, good-hearted brother and had worked to be worthy of his regard. She was immeasurably gratified that she had achieved that goal, and had become someone he wanted to spend more time with. Now if only his Miss Elizabeth could be persuaded to overcome her objections to him and look on him with favor—what a happy family they could be.


	9. Familial Disharmony

_Many thanks to all of you for reading! I apologize for the rather erratic updating schedule - while that may well continue throughout the summer, I do promise to bring the story to a satisfying conclusion, and I appreciate all those of you who are sticking with it. As we move past the end of the original plot, I am happy to take suggestions of post-book/movie scenes you might like to see._

* * *

The next letter Georgiana received wasn't nearly as sweet or thoughtful. It was from her aunt, Lady Catherine deBourgh.

After some initial pleasantries and inquiries after her health and the state of her practice on the pianoforte, Lady Catherine launched into the point of her letter.

_My poor Georgiana, it has come to my attention that your dear brother Fitzwilliam has become entangled with a scheming social climber of very poor family, a Miss Elizabeth Bennet. It is not to be borne that such a woman should take her place amongst the long line of illustrious mistresses of Pemberley. A place, I am sure I need not remind you, that currently belongs to yourself. This young person—I cannot in good conscience abuse the term 'lady' by applying it to her—is the second in a set of five undisciplined sisters. Five! Can you imagine such a lot?_

Georgiana certainly couldn't, although she had tried a number of times. Imagine being one of five sisters. One could never be bored, or lonely, or at a loss for someone to talk to who understood. For that matter, just having a mother and father sounded heavenly to Georgiana. No matter how hard Fitzwilliam had tried to see to it that her life wasn't altered by her parents' deaths, it had been. A young, single man such as her brother simply wasn't capable of taking the place of both father and mother. Their aunt, Lady Catherine, had loudly attempted to insist that Georgiana should come to Rosings and be raised alongside their cousin Anne, but Georgiana had shrunk from the dark, depressing rooms and the shy cousin who barely spoke and the aunt who spoke too much and too decisively and was too critical of everything—and everyone—Georgiana cared about. She had begged Fitzwilliam to be allowed to stay with her governess in the light, sunny rooms of Pemberley, rambling through the gardens and the woods, with her pianoforte as companion. He had agreed, although with some misgivings. After the dreadful experience with Mr. Wickham, Lady Catherine's shrill imprecations against Fitzwilliam's inability to care for his sister might have induced him to listen to his aunt and send Georgiana to Rosings after all, but Georgiana had been in no condition to travel, and at last Fitzwilliam had seen for himself that she would not have been able to stand up against the stream of criticism that would have been poured forth in response to her near-disastrous mistake.

Steeling herself, Georgiana turned back to Lady Catherine's letter.

_You must join with me, Georgiana, in standing firm against this girl's attempts to ensnare Fitzwilliam. I shall use all my considerable influence with him to remind him of his prior commitment to Anne, and you must use whatever influence you can muster in that cause, as well. It would be best if you were to come to Rosings, that we might present a united front to him, making it clear what the respectable women in his life think of this Miss Bennet. I have never understood why he would not accede to my many requests to install you here. You would find Anne's company most improving, and I would be far better able to manage your debut and secure you a suitable prospect were you to be a resident of my estate. Do speak to Fitzwilliam the next time he visits Pemberley and see to it that he sees reason, on both topics._

_ It is my desire that between us we can bring your brother back to a full understanding of his obligations and responsibilities. I had not hoped for Anne to marry so soon, as her health is still so delicate, but in view of the current disagreeable situation, perhaps it would be best if we began to arrange a wedding within the year. I am certain you will enjoy helping Anne select her bridal costume._

Georgiana sighed. Fitzwilliam had never wanted to marry poor Anne deBourgh. She was a mousy little thing who never had two words to say, in company or out. Georgiana had been thrown together with her quite a bit over the course of their childhoods, and still had little idea what Anne thought about anything. She suspected Anne herself didn't know; she'd been constrained to like what her mother liked and go where her mother went her entire life. Any man who married Anne would be marrying naught but Lady Catherine's shadow. Georgiana felt sorry for her cousin to a degree, but Anne made even that difficult, since she seemed so little concerned about her own life and prospects, content to read the books she was allowed and let her mother make all her arrangements and decisions.

She would refuse Lady Catherine's imperious summons, of course. As for Lady Catherine's stream of invective, which went on for another three closely written pages, Georgiana took only one thing from it—if Lady Catherine had heard of an entanglement between Fitzwilliam and Miss Elizabeth, something must have occurred between them to alter their relations, and that was quite good news.

Georgiana folded up her aunt's letter with a smile that would have severely discomposed the mistress of Rosings, had she been there to see it.


	10. The Road to Hertfordshire

_Thanks for reading, all! I appreciate it._

* * *

Two days later, Georgiana received another letter, this one accompanied by a footman. It was brief and to the point:

_Georgiana: The bearer will conduct you to Mr. Bingley's home in Hertfordshire. Make all haste, as I have much to tell you!_

_ Your loving brother, Fitzwilliam_

She could barely breathe for excitement, much less prepare for a journey. Surely his exclamation point, taken in conjunction with Lady Catherine's letter, could only mean one thing. But all the other possibilities crowding her head made it hard for Georgiana to concentrate on the mundane details that needed to be taken care of before she was finally ready to get in the carriage and be on her way in response to Fitzwilliam's summons.

At last she was on her way, bouncing in her seat in a manner most unseemly for a young lady of her advanced years and breeding. Eagerly she peered out the window, watching as the familiar countryside altered. Questions raced incessantly through her mind. What would Mr. Bingley's house look like? Would Fitzwilliam meet her there? Would she see Miss Elizabeth? Most importantly, did Fitzwilliam's words portend a change in his relations with Miss Elizabeth, or did they not? If Lady Catherine had heard of an entanglement and had written to Georgiana, she must have written to Fitzwilliam likewise. Or, worse, gone to see him. Perhaps she had even gone to see Miss Elizabeth, if she were in a true extremity. Could Lady Catherine have convinced Fitzwilliam to marry their cousin Anne? Georgiana could scarcely credit such an idea, but if Miss Elizabeth had refused him again, perhaps her brother might have been convinced to join himself in marriage with the lady his aunt so strongly wished him to wed, just to gain a measure of peace and distance from the object of his affections.

Georgiana certainly hoped that wasn't what had come to pass. Oh, if she could only force the horses to move faster! The curiosity was building inside her with every clopping footfall.

The maidservant she had brought with her, one of the most dependable, was little help, as she could not tell Georgiana with anywhere near enough accuracy how much farther they had to go.

At last the carriage came to its final stop. Georgiana was stiff and tired from so much unaccustomed travel, and her stomach was filled with butterflies. What would she find once she alighted?

To her disappointment, Fitzwilliam wasn't there waiting for her. Several footmen clustered about the carriage, unloading baggage and helping her and the maid down. And there, coming toward her with a broad smile and his hands outstretched, was Mr. Bingley.

"Miss Darcy, what a pleasure it is to have you here! Welcome."

"It's good to be here, Mr. Bingley." She couldn't help looking past him, straining futilely for a glance at her brother. "Where is Fitzwilliam?"

"He had hoped to be here when you arrived, but you made better time than we had imagined. I know he has much he wants to tell you." Mr. Bingley's eyes were sparkling, and his smile as wide as she had ever seen it. "But come, you must be tired from your journey. Come inside, I'll have one of the maids show you to your room so you can restore yourself."

Georgiana followed him, still burning with curiosity. Tired she certainly was, but even so she would have preferred to see Fitzwilliam as soon as she arrived.

Two hours later, bathed and dressed in fresh clothing, she did have to admit she felt much better. She went down to the salon, where she found Mr. Bingley standing at the window, that smile still lingering on his face.

"If you'll pardon my mentioning it, Mr. Bingley, you appear quite pleased about something. May I ask what has you so aglow?"

"You may." He turned toward her, motioning her to a seat. "I am to be married. Very shortly. In fact, as soon as can be arranged."

"Indeed? And who is the lucky lady?"

"Miss Jane Bennet." Lost in his own happiness, Mr. Bingley didn't notice Georgiana's start of surprise. "She lives right near here, and I met her when I first took this house. Your—there were objections made by some to her situation and her connections."

"But you have overcome those objections in the face of your … ah … attachment to the young lady?" Georgiana had been going to say "ardor", but neither she nor Mr. Bingley would ever have recovered from their blushes had she used that word.

"Yes, indeed!" He beamed at her. "And the objections were withdrawn, at any rate. The young lady's modesty and amiability were remarked upon as being so superior that she couldn't fail to rise above any deficiencies in her family. Happily, that was my own opinion, as well, and Miss Bennet—Jane—was prevailed upon to agree to become my wife. I am a fortunate man."

"You certainly are. When am I to meet this paragon?"

"Soon, I imagine. Quite soon. There's a dinner party arranged in three days' time—we had hoped that would give you some time to adjust to certain changes …" His voice trailed off, his cheeks reddening. Georgiana had known Mr. Bingley too long to be surprised by his descent into stammering and confusion. On the contrary, his awkwardness delighted her, because it tended to confirm what she suspected about the alteration in Fitzwilliam's prospects. Now, if her brother would only arrive to end the suspense and receive her congratulations, she would be quite content.

Mr. Bingley moved to the window, staring out of it determinedly. Clearly he hoped to avoid further speech, so that he might not spoil his friend's surprise. "Ah, here he is now," he exclaimed at last.

Georgiana shifted in her seat, rearranging her skirts, her heart beating fast. Anyone would have thought it was her own engagement she was anticipating, she thought to herself. Still, Fitzwilliam's happiness was the more immediate goal. Her own would come someday—her brother would see to that. She only hoped she could help see to his.


	11. Happy Days

_I smiled my way through writing this chapter - I hope it will make you all smile as well! There will be a gap of at least two weeks before the next chapter, due to traveling and lack of writing time, but this is definitely not the end. Thanks for reading and bearing with me!_

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Footsteps sounded in the hall outsde the salon; Fitzwilliam was practically running. He burst into the room with a smile on his face Georgiana had rarely seen outside the safe confines of Pemberley, and she stood to greet him, unable to remain sitting properly. For that matter, with only Mr. Bingley to see them, what did it matter if they practiced society's proper behavior? She had been terribly concerned about Fitzwilliam's well-being, and was so glad to see him she could not have refrained from embracing him had even the imposing person of Lady Catherine stood between them.

As it happened, she did not, however, and Georgiana could feel her brother's exuberance as he swept her up and twirled her around. An undignified greeting for a girl of her years, to be certain, but it didn't matter at all to Georgiana—or to Fitzwilliam or Mr. Bingley, clearly, because they were all laughing and happy.

"Fitzwilliam!" she cried breathlessly as soon as he had put her down. "Your letter was shamefully short and incomplete. Tell me at once—what news do you have for me?"

"Can you not guess?"

"I can, and have, many times in the course of the journey. But I would far rather hear it from you—and quickly, before I burst with the wondering!"

"Very well." He held her by the shoulders, looking down into her face, his smile wide. "I am engaged to be married."

"Yes, but to whom?"

Her impatience made him laugh. "To whom do you think?"

Georgiana glared at her brother. "Lady Anne deBourgh?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I had a letter from Lady Catherine."

"You did? What did she say?"

"She asked me to join with her to point you back in the direction she desired you to follow—straight back to Rosings and far away from the temptations of Hertfordshire." Georgiana watched her brother closely. He groaned, but the twinkle in his eyes didn't dissipate. "I knew it!"

"Knew what?"

"You have managed at last to prevail upon Miss Elizabeth to change her mind."

"In point of fact, I have not."

Georgiana's face fell, and Fitzwilliam chuckled. "You haven't?"

"No. It was Lady Catherine who did the prevailing, if you can imagine such a thing."

"How so, when she was so set against Miss Elizabeth anywhere near you?"

Mr. Bingley laughed. "You have the right of it, Miss Darcy. The lady came in one night, so late she roused the whole household, and gave my friend here such a dressing down as I never thought I would live to see him endure. He took it like a gentleman, politely told her that he intended to suit himself, and sent her on her way." With wide eyes, he added, "He didn't even offer her a cup of tea."

"You said that to Lady Catherine?"

Fitzwilliam looked abashed, but only for a moment before his smile returned. "I did, indeed. She was not pleased."

"To say the least," Mr. Bingley said.

Georgiana looked between the two of them in confusion. "But how did her appearance here convince Miss Elizabeth?"

"Oh, it didn't," Fitzwilliam assured her. "However, her appearance at the Bennets' home certainly did."

"Lady Catherine went to visit Miss Elizabeth?" Oh, how Georgiana would have loved to have witnessed that meeting! "To convince her not to marry you?"

"Yes. Apparently Lady Catherine's vicar is married to a friend of Lizzie's." Fitzwilliam started to catch himself at the use of the less formal name, and then appeared, from the light that brightened his countenance, to decide that as an affianced man, he had the right to be informal. "Through that connection, Lady Catherine was made aware of my relations toward Lizzie, and she came to Hertfordshire to demand that any agreement between us be brought to an end. Lizzie refused to promise such a thing, and that allowed me to hope as I had never dared to do before. I went the next morning to renew my advances toward her, and found them favorably received. And … here we are." The rush of words stopped, and he beamed at Georgiana.

Her eyes filled with tears. "It's just what I hoped for." Georgiana reaached up on tiptoes to give her brother a hug. "When is the happy day?"

"We are still working on that. Soon, we hope." He glanced at Mr. Bingley. "We have hoped we could coordinate with Charles and Jane—Miss Bennet … did he tell you his own news?"

Georgiana nodded, too happy to speak.

"Lizzie and Jane will be having luncheon with us tomorrow, and then you will meet the entire Bennet family at dinner the night after."

"All of them?" she asked, thinking of one member of the extended Bennet family she had no desire to come into contact with.

"All but the youngest. She has recenly been married and is living with her husband in the north." Mr. Bingley was unaware of the former relationship between Georgiana and Mr. Wickham, and appeared truly downcast that she would not be able to meet the entire family assembled at once.

"Oh, that is a shame," Georgiana said, but she and Fitzwilliam exchanged a glance that said it was anything but.

Mr. Bingley smiled, the momentary seriousness gone from his face. "But not such a shame that we should allow ourselves to become downhearted."

"No, I should say not. These are happy days. And all the happier because of your arrival, my dearest sister." Fitzwilliam put an arm around her shoulders, giving her a little squeeze.

Georgiana couldn't help but sigh. Her brother's happiness all but secured, a congenial family relationship in at least one of his prospective brothers-in-law, and soon she would be in the midst of the Bennet sisters, where she had hoped to be for such a long time. Happy days, indeed.


	12. Sisters

_Thanks to all of you for your patience! I hope to be going to an every other Friday posting schedule for the remaining chapters. Thank you for reading!_

* * *

The following day, after a long rest in a most comfortable bed—whoever had furnished Mr. Bingley's house had good taste—Georgiana awoke refreshed and excited, more than ready for her luncheon with Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth. She could barely sit still as the maid assisted with her hair. Georgiana was capable of tying up her own hair if need be, but the results were rarely fit for other eyes to see. And today she wanted to look … well, perhaps not perfect, but her best, at any rate. Perfection had a tendency to be daunting, and she had no desire to be daunting in the presence of the Misses Bennet.

Fitzwilliam's quiet smile of approval at her appearance was all the assurance she needed that in that area, at least, she would not be a disappointment to him. Gracefully, she took her seat, twisting her handkerchief in her fingers.

Mr. Bingley was watching anxiously from the window. He turned at last, beaming. "They're here!" He had barely finished speaking before his long steps had taken him from the room to greet his intended, and Fitzwilliam wasn't far behind. Left alone, Georgiana stood up, wondering if she should remain where she was or follow the two men. Remaining still made her feel uncomfortably as though she was putting on airs, receiving visitors in another person's parlor, but she felt equally uncomfortable hurrying to meet the other two ladies, feeling that they should have a moment with their betrotheds without the inhibiting presence of a near-stranger. She settled on walking slowly toward the hall. The laughter she could hear ahead of her made her smile, but as she drew closer she felt shyness stealing over her.

Georgiana poked her head around the door, unsure of herself and her welcome, although what there was to be so nervous about, she couldn't have said.

It was hard to tell which of the four people in the hall looked the happiest, although Mr. Bingley wore his emotions most vividly on his face. The blonde lady greeting him was flushed rosy red, no doubt at a compliment, and had ducked her head shyly. Miss Elizabeth was not one to hide her face, and she was looking up into Fitzwilliam's eyes, her own shining brightly.

Fitzwilliam was the first to notice Georgiana standing there, and he spoke a quiet word to his intended, who glanced in Georgiana's direction before moving toward her with her hands held out. "Such a pleasure to see you again!"

"Miss Elizabeth."

"Please, if we're to be sisters, I do hope you'll call me Lizzie."

Lizzie! Just as Georgiana had imagined! She squeezed Lizzie's hands. "Only if you will call me Georgie."

"With pleasure."

Fitzwilliam frowned. She had never asked him to shorten her name, but then, anything short of Georgiana would have sounded odd coming from him. She hoped he didn't feel slighted by it, but there wasn't time to consider such a thing, because Lizzie was calling over her shoulder, "Jane! Come meet Georgie Darcy, our new sister-to-be! Georgie, this is Jane, and you know that she and Mr. Bingley—"

"Charles."

"Charles, then." Lizzie cast him a smile. "So, Jane and Charles are getting married, too, so we will all be one family. I hope … I hope that makes you as happy as it makes us."

"Oh, it does," Georgiana assured her. "It truly does."

She felt Fitzwilliam's hand on her shoulder. "I'm afraid I have not been able to be as present in Georgiana's daily life as I might have hoped. The loss of our parents should have brought us closer together, and instead, I fear, with the cares and responsibilities of becoming the head of our family, I have not done all that I ought."

"No, no! Dear brother," Georgiana said affectionately, covering his hand with her own. "You have done admirably well."

"Surely you are not to blame for not being able to take on the roles of mother and father both," Lizzie said quietly, giving him a look filled with approval. "You are, after all, only one person."

"Sometimes even an abundance of relations cannot make up for the sincere affection of a single sibling." Jane spoke up at last, looking at Lizzie with a gentle warmth and trust that made Georgiana like her instantly.

"Fitzwilliam sells himself short," she said earnestly to the other two ladies, not wanting them to have the wrong idea of him. Not that they could, judging from the friendliness that seemed to exist among the two couples, but she had always felt that he was too hard on himself when it came to his raising of her. "Our parents could not have cared for me more tenderly than he has."

There was a silence in the room as they all stood about smiling at one another, before Fitzwilliam withdrew himself, clearing his throat. "Charles, do I hear the luncheon bell?"

He hadn't, but the suggestion was enough to remind Georgiana of how hungry she was, and she was relieved when Mr. Bingley stirred himself from Jane's side to go find out when the luncheon would be prepared.

"That will be your duty soon," Lizzie said to her sister, who smiled.

"I look forward to it." She gazed around at the high-ceilinged hall. "I cannot wait to be mistress here and … change those drapes, for one thing."

"Redecorating already?" Fitzwilliam chuckled. "And you, Lizzie? Which parts of Pemberley do you intend to alter first?"

She looked up at him with an impish smile on her face. "Whichever parts you like least, of course."

Georgiana looked away, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in their presence. The looks on their faces … no one had ever looked at her like that. Certainly not Mr. Wickham.

Jane must have sensed some of what Georgiana was feeling, because she linked their arms, leading her a few steps away. "Have you spent much time away from Pemberley, Miss D—Georgie?"

"Not recently. It is so quiet there—I like it better than the noise and the smell of London. I mean," Georgiana stammered, not wanting to give offense in case Jane was fond of the city.

"No, I understand, and in many ways I quite agree. London is fine in its place, but for everyday I prefer the country. You are not out yet, is that what I understand from Fitzwilliam?"

Georgiana nodded. "We had thought about it this year, but …" She caught herself, not certain how much Jane knew of her history. "We decided next year would be better."

"As it will." Jane squeezed her arm. "You shall have the benefit of whatever advice we can give you. And our younger sisters, Kitty and Mary, are both out, as well."

"Oh, Jane, you aren't trying to suggest that Georgie should follow their lead, are you?" Lizzie called.

"On the contrary." Jane laughed. "I am hoping that Georgie can be a good example for them."

"That's more the thing, indeed," agreed Lizzie.

"I look forward to meeting them," Georgiana ventured.

"They are quite the experience. Unfortunately, it may be some time before you have the chance to meet our youngest sister, Lydia. She is recently married and gone with her husband to the north." Jane sighed. "No doubt they will be happy—Lydia always does seem to land on her feet. But to be so far away from her family cannot be a good thing."

Lizzie linked arms with Georgiana on the other side, giving Jane a warning glance. "Sometimes people have to leave their families to be allowed to grow up, which you know very well is true in Lydia's case, Jane."

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Jane sighed again, then glanced guiltily at Georgiana. "Here I am, going on about people you don't know."

"No, no, I like to hear it," Georgiana assured her. In truth, she didn't quite like to hear about Mr. Wickham's new wife, but since he was now such a near relation of Miss Eliz—of Lizzie's, she supposed she would have to get used to hearing about him without immediately thinking of him in relationship to herself. And after all, what had he really done? Thanks to Fitzwilliam, nothing. Her brother had stopped her from making a dreadful mistake, and they two were the closer for it. There was, Georgiana told herself firmly, no further reason to look back on Mr. Wickham with any emotion at all. She was well free of him, his future was decided in another quarter, and she could see now, watching her brother's face as he looked at Lizzie, that what Mr. Wickham had pretended to feel for her, and what she had persuaded herself she felt for him, was but a shadow of what real love could be. It was time to let go of those lingering feelings and step forward into her new life.

"You appear to be thinking long thoughts," Lizzie whispered.

"No, not any more." She smiled at her soon-to-be sister, knowing that Lizzie knew as much of what was going on in her mind as anyone other than Fitzwilliam could.

As Jane left them to consult with Charles about some detail of the luncheon, Lizzie led Georgiana toward the windows, saying very softly, "I think I can venture to guess what was in your mind. I had a narrow escape in that quarter myself, during my extended period of foolishness before I came awake to an understanding of your brother's many fine qualities. Did you know about … any of that?"

Georgiana glanced over her shoulder, catching her brother watching them with some concern. He was shortly drawn into Charles and Jane's discussion, and she ventured to respond to Lizzie's question. "He told me some few things, yes."

"Then you will be able to imagine how I felt when I learnt of Lydia's impetuousity and the nearly disastrous choice she had made. A pale shadow compared to your own emotions, I have to think."

"No." Georgiana spoke decisively. Best to nip all this in the bud now and have it no longer spoken of. "That's past. The fault was mine for believing … things I should not have, and I will be wiser next time. I wish your sister happy, but I do not envy her choice. Not in the least."

"Nor I. We have that in common." Lizzie squeezed her arm. "Georgie, I do hope we're going to be friends. I want you to live with us at Pemberley, lest you had any concern about that, and I have no intention of coming between you and your brother. He positively sparkles in your presence, and we need to encourage him to sparkle more often, don't you think?"

"I do, indeed. And I could say the same." Fitzwilliam didn't quite sparkle when with Lizzie, but he was relaxed and easy in a way Georgiana had only seen him with his true friends … and true friendship seemed to her to be more important than sparkle.

"Luncheon, ladies, if you care to join us," Fitzwilliam called.

"Shall we?"

Georgiana smiled at her new-found sister. "Indeed we shall."


	13. Much Ado about the Bennets

_This chapter went in a whole different direction than I had intended, but I found it entertaining as it unfolded. I hope you will, as well! I love to hear what you think - suggestions and constructive criticism always welcomed._

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Georgiana was far less nervous about the approach of dinner the day after meeting Jane and seeing Lizzie again than she had been about her luncheon with the two of them. The younger sisters were a far less daunting prospect. She met Charles and Fitzwilliam in the drawing room as they awaited the arrival of the Bennet party.

"This should be a most pleasant evening," Charles remarked with his usual friendly smile. But it seemed a bit strained, and Georgiana wondered why.

"Pleasant in some ways, certainly." Fitzwilliam was pacing the room, a half-finished letter lying abandoned on the table. "In others, less so."

Belatedly, Georgiana remembered the comments Fitzwilliam had made about Lizzie's family when he had first met her. "What have we to look forward to?"

He looked down at her, his eyebrows lifting. "Shall I risk being less than gentlemanly in the interest of honesty?"

"Gentlemanly or not, I would appreciate knowing what to expect."

"I suppose you're right." He sighed, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "Where shall I start?"

"They're not so bad," Charles said, looking anxious at the prospect of being less than completely kind.

"Your generosity does you credit." Fitzwilliam gave his friend a fond glance. "But you know perfectly well that once Jane's mother begins her prattle, you are put completely out of countenance and cannot get a word edgewise. You barely managed to get enough room to speak to accomplish your proposal!"

Charles laughed. "That's true. But she means well!"

"Oh, indeed. She is kind enough, if a bit foolish, but has no sense of propriety. She says exactly what she thinks, appropriate to the occasion or not."

Georgiana was disappointed; she had so hoped Mrs. Bennet would turn out to be something like the mother she only dimly recalled, sweet and gentle and kind. She should have known better, remembered what Fitzwilliam had said about the Bennet family from the beginning. "And Mr. Bennet?"

Fitzwilliam apparently sensed that she was disheartened, because he smiled down at her. "Mr. Bennet is the best of the family, after Jane and my Lizzie. He is a man of great intelligence and sharp wit—but sometimes it is too sharp, and either pierces or goes entirely above the heads of his hearers. And he is too easily distracted by his own pursuits. He has allowed Mrs. Bennet to exercise her own longing for excitement and advancement, to the great detriment of his daughters and their education."

"Come now," Charles said. "He has produced two very fine daughters by his methods."

"Yes, and three others who are rather less so. I am more likely to imagine that the elder two were happy accidents than that any concerted system of education produced Kitty and Lydia."

At the mention of Lydia, Charles gave a rare frown. Georgiana was surprised that he made no attempt to champion the two girls, and the excitement she had felt about meeting Kitty ebbed away. Perhaps having sisters wasn't the source of happiness and familial joy she had imagined it to be.

"There is Mary," Charles ventured after a moment.

"Yes, and Mary is a paragon of education. I don't believe one can argue with that. But she has no wit—no humour at all that I can see—and no sensibility to lighten her good sense."

"Surely they can't be as bad as you paint them," Georgiana said, trying to keep her voice from wobbling and betraying the intensity of her disappointment.

Startled, he turned to look fully at her, then took a seat next to her. "I am sorry, sister. I forgot, in my own apprehension, that you must not be quite easy in your mind over meeting all these strangers, and I allowed myself to be ungenerous. In truth, I believe you will find the Bennet family to your liking. The behaviours to which I object appeared largely in Mrs. Bennet's pursuit of good marriages for her daughters. With three of them now settled, or soon to be so, I imagine her eagerness and the unfortunate consequences of it will have lessened."

"Oh perhaps they will turn in an entirely different direction." Charles smiled at Georgiana.

Instead of the amusement he'd intended, alarm filled her. She had not considered that Lizzie's mother might find her, a motherless daughter about to make her debut into society, an object of maternal interest. Georgiana had no objection to Lizzie or, now, Jane placing themselves in the role of advisor in her upcoming search for a husband, but nothing she had heard about their mother predisposed her to be comfortable with that lady's interference in such a delicate topic. But perhaps, she reasoned with herself, such trepidation had more to do with her own concerns than with any potential defect in the character of Mrs. Bennet. After what had happened with Mr. Wickham, Georgiana had ceased to look forward to being out in society, paraded about the marriage market. Certainly if anyone ever found out that she had contemplated running away with Mr. Wickham, the story would do her no credit, even though nothing untoward had actually occurred. She didn't imagine her contemplated indiscretion would be discovered—Fitzwilliam and now Lizzie could be relied on to keep quiet about it—but it was as well to consider what would happen if Mr. Wickham, or his new wife, were to spread tales about.

"Georgiana?" Fitzwilliam was giving her a concerned look as she had failed to respond to Charles's sally.

She forced a smile. Time enough to worry about her own marriage prospects later—now was the time to celebrate the fact that Fitzwilliam had won through when they thought he had no chance to do so. His happiness would more than secure Georgiana's, for the next long while. And Lizzie bade fair to be the sister Georgiana had always longed for. "I am sorry; I was lost in thought." She patted Fitzwilliam on the shoulder. "It occurs to me that my brother's shyness sometimes keeps him from seeing the best in people, making him more critical of those who challenge his aloofness … and it sounds as though the Bennet family would challenge anyone who attempted to be solitary and reserved in their presence, as we know Fitzwilliam often prefers to be when in company."

"Oh, that is an excellent point. I confess, I hadn't considered it that way before, but I should have seen it myself. No family is more certain to discompose Fitzwilliam than the Bennets—one might imagine they were made for it!"

Fitzwilliam glanced from his friend to his sister with an attempt at sternness, but the tilt to the corners of his mouth gave the lie to his pose. "You have me there, sister of mine. Very well—we will dine with the Bennets this evening and I shall attempt to be as open of countenance as Miss Kitty, as ready to share my general knowledge as Miss Mary, as sharp of wit as Mr. Bennet, and as easy with the formalities as Mrs. Bennet, and you can both tell me later how much you liked my performance."

"Be ready to start, then," Charles said, looking outside, "because they have arrived!"


End file.
